


Sleep

by serencillata



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9516608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serencillata/pseuds/serencillata
Summary: It always starts with something that Sombra has said that prompts Reaper [or Widowmaker] to lash out and try to deal with memories and emotions that neither can remember.Today, when she brings out a photo of two men that Reaper should recognise -- should know -- and doesn't, is no different.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This inspired me to write this: 
> 
> Sadly, the fic didn't turn out exactly as I wanted it to. ^^; I hope you like this! 
> 
> Past McReyes here, also, kinda.

It always begins with something that Sombra has said. She isn’t that young anymore, isn’t supposed to act like an overgrown child, but she acts like a lost youth and Reaper has never felt colder than when he has to deal with her. It _always_ begins with what Sombra has said. Whether it be her taking a picture of Widowmaker’s husband and showing it to her, snickering and saying, _“guess you can’t be with him anymore”_ or be it her showing Reaper a picture of a man in a beanie and saying, _“look at who you can never be”_ , it always has to be Sombra that starts something.

Today is no different. To the side, Widowmaker sits motionless and unblinking. Her expression is blank, eyes focusing solely on her rifle and her entire body is hunched like a doll. She barely reacts when Reaper opens the door, his body a screaming ache that never leaves when he flows in as dark shadows, and only makes a motion when he hands her a bottle of water.

Even then, her sips from the bottle seem almost mechanical, inhuman, as though she drinks out of obligation than anything else. Yet, this is the very same woman who has lashed out for reasons she won’t tell him; several times now, Widowmaker has attempted to wrap her hands around Sombra’s throat and kills her when she brings up her old husband.

It always starts with something that Sombra has said, something cold and uncaring in the playful, teasing tone of voice, and it will always end with her looking embittered when Reaper pulls the murderous Widowmaker off of her.

Today, Sombra saunters in – dressed simply now, unlike Reaper and Widowmaker who rarely wear different outfits – and she is holding a photo in her hands. Her neon nails cover the face of the man in the photo and Reaper glances up to see Sombra staring at him with a smirk on her face and a knowing glint in her eyes, and he looks away immediately.

“Gabe! Gabey, there you are,” she coos, and Reaper murmurs a soft _“Gabriel?”_ that she ignores, “I have something cool to show ya.” Her words flow in a playful lilt, and there is a twirl and skip in her step as she approaches Reaper. “Lookit this guy!”

She brandishes the photo in his face like a prize and grabs Reaper’s face with her free hand and jerks him to look over at the photo. He growls, body stiffening up and rising to try and claw at her face again, but he stops when he sees the picture presented to him.

A cowboy hat sits upon messy hair, the most glaringly obvious thing, before Reaper takes in the way the man with the cowboy hat drapes his arm around the other man with a beanie. There is a grin on the cowboy’s face, and the beanie man frowns and yet he is clearly leaning against the cowboy’s chest, his shoulders slumped and his arms loosely crossed…

“Don’t they look like the best couple?” Sombra teases and Widowmaker is finally looking up to stare at the two, her eyes staring right through them both and Reaper is silent. “I almost envy ‘em, too bad it never worked out. Y’know why, Gabe?”

He stiffens up. “Don’t start anything today, kiddo.” He growls out, but Sombra’s lips twist into a frown and her grip on the photo trembles. “ _Don’t.”_

“D’ya wanna know why, Gabe?” She snaps out, her temper immediately rising up in a way that he can’t understand—not really. “Because their organisation got exposed! Exposed for the hacks that they are, exposed for the fakes that they are! All becausa two idiots that fought together and caused a massive damn explosion!”

His hands curl into tight fists. “Sombra!” He growls out, body on edge and ready to pounce. “ _Silence your—“_

“ **And two people that shoulda died ended up livin’!** ” Sombra yells out with her eyes wide and her teeth grind together. “Do you remember him? Do you even remember him!?”

Reaper stays quiet.

“I asked you a _question_ Gabe! Aren’t you my superior, huh!?” In the background, Widowmaker rises. Her expression is unchanging, and yet she stands with a quiet grace that makes Reaper want to lash out at her too. “Do you remember him!? Tell me! _Tell me!”_

She shoves the photo in his face again and he ends up ripping it away from her hands… and she doesn’t take it back. Sombra pulls back then, arms crossing and she looks away from him. He doesn’t pay attention to her, then; instead, Reaper finds himself staring at the smiling cowboy’s face.

Something in his heart tightens, a painful clenching that makes Reaper want to choke. The cowboy smiles up at him, bright and beaming and golden, and Reaper stares and stares and stares.

Finally, he raises the photo back up to Sombra and she takes it without even needing to look. “… no,” Reaper admits, “I don’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I ripped this apart then.”

At the very mention of the notion, Reaper leaps up. His clawed fingers wrap around Sombra’s neck, just like Widowmaker’s has so many times before, and he tries to squeeze—tries to break her neck with his grip alone and end her misery…

Yet, a strong hand grabs at his shoulder and he finds himself being yanked backwards and off of Sombra. The hacker falls to the floor, the photo fluttering away, and Reaper finds himself falling as well from the way Widowmaker has ripped them both off.

They both stare up at her, at her dull eyes and her impassive face, and Sombra is the one that stands up with a huff and makes her leave in a hurry. He can’t bring himself to look away from Widowmaker’s face, can’t stop from staring at her even when she makes her way over to the photo and picks it up, slowly.

There is a silence that hangs over them both; heavy, a weight that can never be lifted, and Widowmaker stares at the photo in her hand. Her lips twitch then, her eyelids hanging low on her eyes and her shoulders slump.

She stays quiet, doesn’t raise a single word against Reaper for attempting to kill Sombra like he does to her, and her arm extends out towards him to offer him the photo back. “I don’t _need_ this.” Reaper growls out, but Widowmaker keeps her arm extended and the photo offered.

“You do.” Widowmaker says after a moment, maybe two, and Reaper stares at the piece that started it all in her hand before he takes it – daintily, carefully, as to not rip it – from her. Without another word, she goes back to where she has been sitting, grabs the water bottle, and begins to sip from it slowly, mechanically.

Her eyes focus on her rifle, and Reaper’s eyes – what is left of them – attempt to focus on the photo in his hand.

The cowboy from the photo smiles up at him, and something in his heart sleeps, burdensome and cumbersome, that attempts to stir and rekindle _something_ in his cold, screaming ache of a body.

“Christmas is tomorrow.” Widowmaker says, something lost in her voice, and Reaper looks up. “I… will not be here.”

He looks back down at the smiling cowboy and the grumpy man in the beanie. “Take a red rose with you,” is the only thing that he says, and Widowmaker responds with a soft “thank you” that makes Reaper clench his eyes shut and his hands tremble.

Quietly, Reaper tucks the photo away in his coat pocket, drapes his arms over his knees as he takes a seat, and sighs.

Truthfully… he doesn’t know why he keeps the photo, but something in him sleeps, a remnant of something, that tries to stir awake and remember.

Something that Reaper cannot do.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at [Starrelia](http://www.starrelia.tumblr.com)!


End file.
